Control
by Southern Trip
Summary: Trip has a breakdown. Can the others bring him back from the edge? Post-Xindi, introduces new character. Revised Ch. 4, I like this one much better. R&R please!
1. Default Chapter

  
  


Disclaimer: Here's the deal. Paramount owns the Enterprise, and all those encased in it.   
  


A/N: If you guys like this story, please review it for me. I'm really excited about the idea I have.   
  
  
  
  
  


Commander Charles Tucker III sat at his desk in Engineering, wrist deep in reports, with a scowl on his face deep enough to set coins into. He picked up a random PADD, one labeled 'Bridge Repairs.' After several long seconds of riffling through the pile, he came up with another, this one with the heading 'Crew Assignments.' It was one of those days, he had decided several hours ago. A misplaced Monday, his baby sister Lizzie had phrased it. One of the days that seemed to go on forever, with a never ending pile of work to be done. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the oncoming headache. Thoughts of his sister didn't bring knife sharp pains to his chest anymore, although he was sure he wasn't over her death. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face. Sometimes he saw her as he remembered her, blond and tan and beautiful. Other days he saw her as he imagined she had died. Lying in a field somewhere, body charred and black and unrecognizable. Or crushed under a house, maybe impaled on a steel rod. Or maybe she was one of the really unfortunate ones. The ones who were trapped in air pockets under collapsed buildings, slowly starving to death and realizing that no help was going to come... 

"Commander Tucker?" 

His head shot up out of his hand. The Commander's office was little more than a cubicle set up in the corner farthest from the warp core. Lieutenant Hess, his second in command, and a fantastic engineer, stood against the portable wall with a small, shoe box sized container in her hands. 

"Anna,"he said, displaying an energy he didn't feel. "What's up?" 

She looked slightly uncomfortable, and Trip suddenly knew what was in the box. "Well, sir, I was just getting lunch, and Chef said you hadn't been yet, so I had him prepare this for you." 

She darted forward, and pushed some PADD's out of the way to place it on the corner of the desk. 

"Are you motherhenning me again, Anna?"he asked, with a slight frown. 'Motherhenning' was the term he attached to the behaviour nearly everyone was displaying when they were around him. Getting his meals, checking up on his sleeping patterns, asking him if he wanted to 'talk.' 

She shook her head adamantly. "No, sir. I just...permission to speak freely, sir?" 

"Come on, Anna. You should know by now that I expect you to." Trip was the only department head on the ship who encouraged free speech among his crew. He needed them to ask questions, to tell him when he was out of line, to question his judgement. But he knew that when the time came, they would follow his orders without question or comment. 

"Well, the body needs nourishment, and so does the brain. You're not going to be able to help Elizabeth if you don't take care of yourself." 

Trip's anger flared up suddenly. 'How dare she?!!'he screamed to himself. Using his dead sister as a reason for him to get off his ass and eat something! His stood up so quickly his chair flipped over, and before he could rein his temper in, he snapped, "I'll eat when I damn well want to, Lieutenant! Is that clear?" He punctuated his anger with a finger stabbed in her direction. 

The shock that showed on her face told Trip just how much he had changed since the attack on Earth. Hess nodded stiffly, then mumbled something unintelligible. She backed out of the room, and hurried back to work, like a scolded dog running away with its tail between its legs. Trip's anger deflated rapidly, and he righted his chair before slumping down into it. He encourages free speech among his staff, and when they say what they're thinking, he blows up. He covered his face with his hands, and leaned over his desk. He felt like everything was unraveling so quickly, and he was running behind the mess with scotch tape, trying to put everything back together. 

"Reed to Commander Tucker." 

The comm set into the wall next to him spit out the words, and Trip blew a sigh of relief through closed lips. He would have to apologize to Anna, but looks like it would have to wait. He reached for the comm panel, and responded. "Tucker here. What's up, Malcolm?" 

"There's a slight variance in sensor readings, sir. I was hoping you weren't too busy, and could come take a look." The British officer's dry tone was transmitted through the comm, and Trip got the sudden impression that it was a slow day. From a tactical officer's point of view, anyway. 

"You bet,"he said, standing up quickly. "I'm on m'way." 

He didn't wait for an acknowledgment, but cut the connection and left his office. Small groups of engineering personal were spattered around the department, working as he had asked them to before going into his office. But now, as he walked towards the lift on the opposite side from his office, he felt multiple pairs of eyes on his back. Either Hess told everyone, which was extremely unlikely, or they had all seen or heard his little display. He sighed in frustration, and waved his hand in the air before entering the lift. 

"I'll be on the bridge,"he shouted, as the doors closed. A frown creased his handsome face. He knew he would have to find a way to make it up to his second in command. He certainly didn't want her jumpy, and afraid of getting yelled at while she was on duty. She was the kind of person who looked up to him, but would not do everything he asked, without thinking it through for herself. She questioned his decisions when appropriate, and he didn't want that to change. 

The doors opened to the bridge, and Trip took a quick cursory glance around before stepping out onto the deck plating. It was work as usual, although things did seem fairly slow. Everyone was bent over their workstations, but the Captain was nowhere to be seen. Commander Tucker hadn't taken two steps off the lift before Hoshi called out to him. 

"Commander, I was hoping someone from your department could take a look at the door to my quarters sometime. It's been jamming lately." 

Trip nodded quickly, and pulled out a PADD from his chest pocket. "Sure thing, Ensign. I'll add it to my list." He continued on his way to the Engineering station behind Malcolm, when something made him pause mid stride. 

"Commander Tucker." 

He turned slowly to face the emotionless face of Sub-Commander T'Pol. An inkling in his gut told him that his to-do list was going to get longer before he could do anything to shorten it. He managed to keep the frown off his face, but couldn't help the tone of frustration that coloured his words. 

"Yes, T'Pol." 

"There is a slight delay in the receiving time between my station and the forward sensors. Any delay time in unacceptable, and you should dispatch a team to remedy the situation as soon as your department can spare them." 

He held the PADD up in response. "As soon as I can spare them." He made it to his station without anymore distractions, and signed on quickly. In a matter of seconds, he had a detailed description of sensor readings pulled up. He skimmed through the list, blowing out a harsh breath before he had finished. 

"Wholey smokes, Malcolm. 7.3% is not a slight variance. How the hell could this have happened?" He turned in his chair to face the Lieutenant. Malcolm's response was a non-committal shrug. "I've run all the tests I could think of, sir. There were no indications of anything out of the ordinary." 

The Commander frowned. "But something's gotta be. I've got a few more things we could try up my sleeve, but if that fails, we might have to take a space walk." 

Malcolm nodded in understanding, and the two fell silent, their fingers flying over their respective stations. Trip hadn't been working long when he felt a pair of eyes on his back. He turned slowly, and was met with a stern, brown eyed gaze. The Captain was standing just outside his ready room, and once he had Trip's attention, he waved him over with his hand. 

"I need to have a few words with you, Commander,"he said, then disappeared inside his room. Trip swallowed hard, but somehow managed to keep the worry off his face. The last time the Captain had acted like this, he had just been informed that the Vissian Cogenitor had committed suicide. He stood stiffly, excused himself from work with Malcolm, and strode as confidently as he could across the deck. 

Inside his ready room, Jonathon stood with his back to the door, looking out the viewport at the stars as they zoomed past. Trip stood at attention, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He chewed his lip worriedly, wondering what the Captain had called him for. 

"I just received a report from your department,"Archer said quietly, and worry was replaced by confusion on the Commander's face. His crew didn't send reports directly to the Captain. They were sent to Trip, who read them over, signed them, then sent them on to the Captain. The only way they would go behind his back was if...It suddenly hit him like a phaser blast between the eyes. 

"It was from Lieutenant Hess, wasn't it?" His question was little more than a statement, made with a slouching of his shoulders, and a sigh of defeat. Jonathon turned, and Trip was surprised to see his face lined with worry. He sat down behind his desk, and motioned for Trip to do the same. 

"It doesn't matter who sent the report,"Archer said, studying the Commander carefully. "They're worried about you, Trip. You're not the kind of guy who snaps at his crew." 

"I didn't snap at my crew,"he countered defensively. Now that he knew what the meeting was about, he sat back and crossed his arms in a defiant posture. "She went too far, is all." 

The Captain frowned deeply. "That's funny, because I heard she brought you lunch. Seems like the line between kindness and cruelty is pretty thin with you." 

Trip didn't respond. He stared down at his hands, which were now loosely clasped in his lap. He really wasn't in the mood for a lecture, or an intervention, or whatever the heck this was. All he wanted to do was curl up on his bunk and sleep until this mission was over. Either way. 

"What's going on with you, Trip?"Jonathon asked, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin in his hands. "You're shutting me out. I know you realize we haven't eaten together in weeks." 

'That's because I haven't been eating,' Tucker thought bitterly. "It's not intentional,"he answered instead. "I've just been busy." He glanced up at the Captain, knowing he would be hard pressed to get past that excuse. The minute Trip stopped being busy was the minute the ship fell apart. But his friend was nothing if not stubborn. He wouldn't be distracted so easily. 

"Little brother, you're not the only one who can keep the ship on the straight and narrow. In fact, I bet others could do it without getting pregnant." Trip couldn't help but smile. It had been so long since the Captain had used his preferred nickname for the younger man, but it was appreciated. 

"Yeah, but could anyone do it with so much style and witty humour?"Trip replied, straightening up in his chair, and smiling. But faster than it appeared, it melted off his face. He grew serious. "Look, Jon, I appreciate your worry, and everyone else's. I really do. But I need to get through this on my own. You know?" 

Captain Archer smiled. He did know. He felt similar after the death of his father several years earlier. He wasn't a psychologist, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with proving you're a man. "Yeah, I do. But you listen here. The minute you let your work suffer, I'm taking you off duty and ordering you to your quarters. Understood?" 

Trip nodded, even forced a small smile onto his face. "Perfectly." 

Jonathon sank back in his chair, the relief on his face evident and understandable. He pointed a finger at the young engineer. "But you are going to go get something to eat, then head right back to your quarters." 

The Commander made a face. "But sir, Malcolm and I were..." 

"Lieutenant Reed is a very competent man, Commander. He can deal with his problem until after you're had some rest. Dismissed." 

Trip frowned for a moment, then shrugged and stood up. As far as deals went, it wasn't a bad one. He turned to leave, then paused for a minute. "Thanks, Cap'n,"he said after a long silence, his voice somewhat gruff. He nodded to himself, then continued on his way out. 


	2. Things That Go Boom! In the Night

  
  


Tactical officer Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stood uncertainly outside Captain Archer's quarters, chewing nervously on the inside of his lip. He looked down at the PADD clenched tightly in his hands, reviewing his information carefully one final time. He couldn't for the life of him understand why he was so terrified to show his Captain the protocol he had come up with. Of course, Captain Archer did have the strange ability to make Malcolm think the universe was a safe place. However, if their encounters inside the Expanse had taught them anything, it was that they should be on constant alert. The Captain would already know that. Wouldn't he? 

Before he could stop himself, Malcolm reached up and pressed the door chime. There was no turning back now. He swallowed hard, briefly entertaining the thought of running back to his quarters and going through his work one final time. But then the door whooshed open, and the Captain was standing before Malcolm. He was dressed in his pajamas and was tossing Porthos' ball in one hand. 

"Malcolm!"he said, clearly surprised by the Lieutenant's visit. "What can I do for you?" 

"Oh, it's not important, sir,"Reed offered, shaking his head. "You're obviously busy. I can wait until tomorrow." 

He turned to leave, but Captain Archer reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back towards the door. "It was important enough for you to come up here. Now get in here and tell me what's on your mind." 

Malcolm sighed, but allowed himself to be directed to the chair across from the Captain's desk. He sat down, and took a moment to collect his thoughts before beginning to speak. 

"Captain, the Expanse is far more dangerous than anything we've faced before. My primary concern is with the safety of the crew. I know you share my views that one casualty is one too many." 

The Captain was perched on the edge of his desk, looking at the younger man with one eyebrow raised. "Of course, I do. But I fail to understand where this is going." 

Malcolm slid the PADD across the desk. "With the input of T'Pol, Major Hayes and Commander Tucker, I've developed a rigorous set of tests for anyone who wishes to go on away missions. I feel very strongly that nobody should be allowed to leave the ship without having passed all of these tests." 

Archer was quiet for a long minute, looking through the information his tactical officer had collected. "Weapon handling, hand to hand combat, fitness, emergency equipment repair. Do you really think all this is necessary?" 

The look on Malcolm's face was resolute and certain. "Yes, I do, sir. If any of the MACO's, or my crew, gets injured, we will have a good selection of crewmen to take their place. Sir, I've thought this through very carefully. Commander Tucker agreed to let us turn Cargo Bay Three into a testing facility, with an obstacle course. Sub-Commander T'Pol agreed to supervise the fitness aspect." 

The Captain looked up from the PADD, held Malcolm's gaze for a time, then nodded stiffly. "Do it. Use whatever you need." 

The shock was evident on the Lieutenant's face. "Oh. Uh, thank you sir. To be quite honest, I wasn't expecting you to agree to it." 

"Malcolm, it's a great plan. Why would you think I wouldn't agree to it?" He slid off the desk, and moved to stand beside the tactical officer, eyeing him carefully. Malcolm swallowed. 

"Well, sir, in the past, you have taken my suggestions with less than enthusiasm." 

Captain Archer looked at the British man with his jaw hanging open. Never in a million years would he have expected the Lieutenant to say that. Sure, Malcolm tended to be over cautious, and had a tendency to enjoy blowing things up before investigating them. More often than not, Archer had to rein the man in. But out here, he was in his element. 

"I had no idea you felt that way. Malcolm, listen. You are the best tactical officer I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Yeah, maybe when we were in normal space, your suggestions were a little overkill, but here in the Expanse...As you said, it's far more dangerous than anything we've encountered. Not only are your suggestions appreciated, but I have the feeling that they'll be keeping more people alive." 

Malcolm ducked his head uncomfortably. He could take a berating with the best of them, but throw him a compliment, and he would very nearly drown in it. "Thank you, sir,"he mumbled. "I'll get right to work on it." 

Captain Archer smiled, and squeezed Malcolm's shoulder. "Get some sleep, first, Lieutenant. I doubt you'll have much chance for it once this plan gets underway." 

The younger man nodded, wished his superior officer a good night, then left quickly. He felt an immense feeling of relief at finally having given the Captain his plan, but he also felt a new weight settling onto his shoulders. Archer was right. The crew counted on him to keep them alive. It was a great responsibility, but not one he would've traded for the world.   
  


  
  


The bright Florida sun shone down on Charlie Tucker, warming him to his very core. He lifted his tan and freckled face to the sun's rays; the grin that crossed his face was automatic. The sky was impossibly blue, and a slight breeze had picked up. A perfect day for a trip to the beach, the young boy decided. He was dressed in his swimming trunks; brand new navy blue shorts with a white strip up the side. He turned back towards his house; a relatively small farm style two story, with a wrap around porch and a three seat swing hanging by the front door. 

"Hurry up, guys!"he shouted, his Southern accent thick and innocent. In response to his call, a young four year old girl raced out of the house, wearing a bright yellow bathing suit. She carried a blue bucket and shovel in one hand, and dragged a big pink beach towel in the other. Older brother as the boy was, he instantly noticed her bare feet, and frowned. 

"Elizabeth, put your sandals on. You might cut your feet." 

He knew that if he didn't take good care of his little sister, he would be in big trouble. He watched as she sat down on the top step, and carefully fastened her pink sandals to her little feet. His heart swelled with pride, he had taught her to put on her own shoes several months earlier, and was glad to see she hadn't forgotten it. She finished, and looked up at her brother with a wide grin. 

"Let's go to the beach, Trip!"she said, running happily towards him. She made it to his side, and took his hand as she had been told to. But then a thought occurred to her young mind. She had forgotten her towel and bucket on the porch when she had put her shoes on. She looked up at her brother for a split second, then hurried back to the porch, shouting over her shoulder, "I'll just be a minute! Don't leave without me!" 

He watched as she started to climb the steps, but turned away suddenly when he heard a deafening roar coming from overheard. With a smile, Charlie looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Vulcan ships that passed over their house from time to time. Instead, a kilometer wide beam of pure white energy was pouring down from the sky. He looked on in horror as it moved through their neighbourhood, vapourizing houses and anything else in its path. He turned back to Elizabeth, but she changed before him, in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, she was a grown woman, wearing a soft pink sun dress and waving at him happily. He looked down, and saw that he had changed as well. Instead of a nine year old boy in swimming shorts, he was a grown man in his Starfleet uniform. The one constant in this situation was the beam of energy that continued to move towards them. 

"Elizabeth!"he cried, waving desperately at her. "You've got to get out of there!" 

She smiled at him, motioning him over with one hand. She bent over to pick up the bucket and towel that her younger self had left on the step, completely oblivious to the danger that bore down towards her. 

"Lizzie!'he screamed, trying but failing to move towards her. "Get out of there! Please! You've got to run!" She shook her head at him, indicating with frustration that she couldn't hear him. He kept waving at her, hoping and praying to whatever higher power there was that she would just get up and come towards him. She remained unaware of the destruction that was right at her doorstep. Trip watched in terror as the beam disintegrated the house next door. He suddenly knew there was nothing that he could do, his baby sister was going to die, and it was all his fault...   
  



	3. Monsters Unmasked

  
  


Commander Tucker flew backwards, a strangled gasp leaving his throat as his legs tangled with something and he fell hard to the floor. Nearly whimpering in distress, he scrambled to his feet, screaming at his computer to turn the lights on. Sweat dripped from his face and hair, his sleeping clothes were drenched with it. Adrenaline pumped through his veins; he whirled around his quarters, trying without success to figure out what had been so important. Why had he shot out of his bed like his ass was on fire? His chest continued to heave several minutes after the lights had come on, and he remembered what had happened. Using his computer terminal at his desk, he had finally finished the crew assignments for the next few shifts, but must've drifted off shortly thereafter. His hands shook uncontrollably as he righted his chair, and sat down hard in it. Nightmares had been plaguing his dreams for several weeks now, but few left him as shaken as this one had. He pushed weak hands through his hair, taking gulps of air as his lungs gradually slowed down. They all had two things in common: the first being his baby sister, and the second being the beam of energy that had come down from the sky and taken her life. He didn't understand why the nightmares continued on long after her death, or why they left him with a complete and total feeling of guilt. But he did know that trying to go back to sleep was a waste of his time. He stood up, and quickly changed into his civilian clothes; plain brown pants and a blue shirt. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom attached to his quarters, scrubbing furiously at his sweat soaked hair and face before tossing it on his bed and leaving his quarters. 

Checking his chronometer as he walked silently down the corridor, he saw that he had only slept a few hours. The hallways were deserted; most shifts were almost certainly asleep in their quarters. Trip knew that he would be unable to sleep for quite a while, so he knew that coffee would some become a close friend. 

It was a short, one deck jaunt down to the mess hall, which, thankfully, was as unoccupied as the corridors. He grabbed a mug off the rack, and stuck it under the dispenser's nozzle. "Coffee, black." The steaming liquid quickly filled the cup, and Trip took a long, grateful sip. 

"You're up late. Or is it early?" 

The sudden voice spoke up out of the shadows, and Commander Tucker spun around so quickly his mug of coffee dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. His eyes widened as he could barely make out a figure rising from a seat in the corner of the mess hall. 

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't mean to startle you." The figure rushed forward, and coming into the light, Trip realized his creature that went bump in the night was a slim young woman in a Starfleet uniform. She had chin length blond hair that stuck out in all directions, and soft blue eyes that gleamed apologetically at him. She grabbed a towel off the cart and sopped up the spilt coffee. 

"I didn't know you didn't see me." She rose from the deck plating, tossed the towel in the laundry chute, and pulled a clean mug off the shelf. She reached out to fill the new mug, but paused in mid motion, looking at Trip carefully. 

"Are you alright, sir?" She had the feeling he barely heard her. He stared past her, looking at something just over her shoulder. The colour had drained from his face, his jaw was slack and open, a close look at him would reveal that he was trembling softly. He shook his head suddenly, his bright blue eyes focusing on the woman's face. 

"Um, I'm fine." He tried to reassure her with a smile, but was fairly certain it came out as a grimace. He took the coffee she handed him and gulped down a mouthful. 

"Again, I'm sorry I surprised you." She was reminding him a little bit of Malcolm. Desperate for forgiveness for an event that wasn't her fault. So she startled him. Did that really warrant the reaction that he had given? Like his life was in danger? Talk about your overreactions, he thought bitterly to himself. He looked at the woman carefully, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Despite the thoughts rushing through his mind, he realized he didn't recognize this woman. "Have we met? I'm usually pretty good with faces and names." 

With a smile, she shook her head. "No, sir. I came on board six weeks ago, back at Earth. I've seen you around, but we've never met. I'm Lieutenant Laura Simmons." 

She stuck out her hand, and after a moment spent forcing his body to stop trembling, he shook it. "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Want to sit down?" 

She nodded and headed back over to the seat she had been sitting at earlier. A small plate with a half eaten piece of pecan pie sat in the middle of the table. Trip smiled as he took a seat across from her. 

"Chef makes a pretty good pecan pie, doesn't he?" 

She grinned. "He sure does. Would you like some? I really shouldn't finish it." 

He held up a hand, and shook his head. "No. Thanks, though." He took another sip of coffee, wondering absently if his stomach would even hold a bite of pie. The smell of his favourite dessert had the complete opposite effect on him, turning his insides instead of making them growl with hunger. 

"So where are you from?"he asked, crossing his arms on the table. It had been so long since he had done this; interacted with a member of the opposite sex when work was not the top of conversation. Did he even remember how to carry on a normal discussion? 

She smiled, and he could instantly tell she had an enjoyable life. "Canada. Ontario, specifically. A little town called Waterdown. I heard you're from Florida? What part?" 

He shrugged his shoulders, feeling an uncontrollable and inexplicable feeling of self-defense arise. 

"It's all the same, isn't it? A tiny city called LaBelle. Sun and surf." A sudden image came to mind, a kilometer wide beam of death pouring down from space, vapourizing the ocean and anything else in it's path. He shook his head irritably, and focused back on the woman before him. She was pretty enough; soft blue eyes, small slightly upturned nose with a light dusting of freckles. A wide smile crossed her face, showing straight white teeth, something that given the time's dental advances, was pretty commonplace. 

"It was quite a shock moving down to San Francisco to join Starfleet. I don't care what all the advertisements say. Canada and the United States are worlds apart." 

He nodded in agreement. "You got that right. I've only been once, to an engineering conference in Toronto. It's a nice place." 

I'm doing alright, he said to himself. No awkward silences, no out of place comments, no strange looks. 

"Do you have any siblings?"she asked, taking another fork full of pie. Trip thought that was odd, given what she had said earlier. But he didn't give it another thought. 

"Um, yeah. I have three younger sisters." Another image came abruptly to mind: a young woman lying half crushed under a fallen brick wall, her blond hair soaked with blood, her green eyes unfocused and unseeing, a scream of help dead on her features. He shuddered, pulling himself back to reality. "Actually, two younger sisters." How could he have forgotten that? Only two. One dead, killed by God only knew what. Or did he? Did God know what had happened? Had he made sure no one suffered, that every death was quick and painless? He noticed then that she was giving him a pitiful look. Oh, well. A nice conversation that was good while it lasted. I'll just have to go back to my quarters, and finish counting the holes in the ceiling panels. 

"Oh, that's right!"she cried, pressing her hand to her mouth. "You lost a sister in the attack on earth, didn't you? Oh, Lord, I can't imagine that. I'm so sorry." 

He didn't reply, his mind was too busy coming up with a million and one ways that his baby sister could've suffered in her final minutes. Or what it hours? Or God help him, days? Did she have to carry on for days, with all that pain, knowing what had happened? He roughly rubbed at his face with his hands, blowing out a breath. Trip looked up, and realized she as still waiting for an response. 

He shrugged slightly. "It's alright. I mean, it sucks, but we're gonna get the bastards who did it, right?" 

She nodded her head emphatically. "You bet. Captain Archer wouldn't settle for anything less." 

Trip nodded grimly. He understood that well. When he wasn't too busy working, or wallowing in thoughts of death and destruction, he thought about Jonathan, and the changes the older man had gone through. Of course, no one could live through such an event without changing in one way or another. But it seemed lately as if the Captain was bent only on revenge. The only thing he lived for was saving his planet from annihilation. 

"Do you have any siblings?"he asked, hoping to get off the topic of dead sisters. She looked doubtful, unsure, as if she thought talk of her family would send him over the edge into hysterics. 

"I have an older brother,"she replied reluctantly, watching him carefully. 

They gradually fell silent. The Lieutenant played with her pie, squishing the textured filling with her fork. Trip swirled around the remainder of his coffee in the bottom of his mug, when something suddenly occurred to him. 

"Why aren't you in bed?"he asked, setting the mug down. "I mean, everyone needs their rest, right?" 

She smiled softly. "I'm not used to the ship yet. It's hard with the engine vibrating the deck." 

Trip's response was a full out grin. "That's my baby. Can't sleep without her purring in my ear." 

Laura laughed softly, and the Commander decided he definitely liked the sound. It had been some time since he had enjoyed talking a female outside of engineering, but it seemed as though he had not forgotten completely. His interaction with her seemed to have lifted the daze he felt himself slipping into more often than not.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Only the Beginning

  
  


A/N: I have a lot of trouble writing dialogue for T'Pol. If anyone wants to give me some 

hints or something, drop me a line. Please! 

Lieutenant Reed carefully reviewed the numbers and calculations on the PADD in his 

hand, frowning slightly as he worked the formulas through his mind. He looked back up to the 

Armoury ensign standing in front of him. The light haired man was as least three inches taller 

than Malcolm, but still seemed diminutive in comparison. He nodded in approval. 

"This looks good,"he said, handing the PADD back. "See that it's implemented." 

The Ensign, whose name Malcolm couldn't seem to recall, scurried away. The 

Lieutenant stepped back, and reviewed their progress with a critical eye. After agreeing to the 

plan the tactical officer had proposed, Captain Archer had given Malcolm full run of supplies 

and crewmen he might need to make it work. He had appropriated a team of ten crewmen, 

plus several from his own department, to transform Cargo Bay Four into an extensive gym and testing facility. Malcolm stood just inside the doorway. Directly ahead of him, a platform had 

been hung from the ceiling, twenty feet up, with six lines of cable hanging down, just brushing 

the floor. Before the platform, a ten foot solid durasteel wall had been erected, and ahead of 

that was a twenty by sixty section of netting, suspended twelve inches above the floor. 

Crewmen wishing to take the test would be required to strapa 100 lb weight to their back, then 

maneuver through the netting, make it over the wall, then climb up the rope and onto the 

platform. Once up there, they would have to fashion a crude communication device and contact Hoshi on the bridge with their location. While doing all of this, crewmen would have to dodge 

shots taken at them by Malcolm and other armoury men and women. ompletion of this aspect 

of the test would take them to the armoury, where they would have to spar with Sub-Commander 

T'Pol, and pass a phase pistol targeting challenge. Malcolm felt strongly that achieving a successful rating in these different sections would prepare anyone for nearly anything they could encounter on an enemy planet. 

He felt rather than heard the door open behind him, and was soon joined by Captain Archer. "How goes the progress, Lieutenant?"he asked, appraising the scene before him with a practiced eye. A team of three crewmen from engineering were completing the installation of the durasteel wall, while several others from different departments were finishing up on their independent tasks. "Very well, Captain. We're almost ready for our first victim." 

The Captain smiled just noticeably. "I'm assuming you're the first?" 

Malcolm was like Trip in the sense that neither men expected anyone on their crew to do something they themselves wouldn't. He nodded. "Yes, sir. I wouldn't have it any other way." 

Archer was quiet for a long minute, then said, "Make me the second." 

Lieutenant Reed's eyes widened with surprise. "Sir?" 

This time Archer's smile was wide and real. "Well, you wouldn't expect me to force the 

crew to do something I wouldn't do myself, would you? I know you don't." 

Malcolm nodded in understanding. He decided that he would have been surprised had the Captain not insisted on taking the test. "Of course. I was going to begin the testing tomorrow." "That's good. I had Hoshi send out a memo to everyone on board, telling them to see you to schedule their run." 

He nodded again. "Captain, I feel very strongly that these tests will better prepare anyone for a trip down to the surface. " 

Captain Archer clapped Malcolm on the shoulder. "You're doing a good job, Malcolm. 

Keep it up." 

  
  


Commander Tucker stood frowning down at the console before him, his light blue eyes 

flicking back and forth between readouts. He felt the best he had in several weeks, bu no 

amount of positive feelings were enough to keep the frustration from mounting when dealing 

with a ship that never seemed to want to stay repaired. He turned away for a moment, closing 

his eyes tightly as he took a deep breath. In an effort to stay relaxed, he recalled the events of the night before. After spending several hours talking to the Lieutenant in the mess hall, he had returned to his quarters. For the first time since hearing of the attack on Earth, he had slept for a solid six hours without a hint of a nightmare. He had even managed to keep down a couple of pieces of toast for breakfast. All in all, he was proud of himself. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into the concerned eyes of Lieutenant 

Hess. The background clattering of crews working around engineering disguised her approach. 

"Is everything alright, Commander?"she asked, reaching out and touching his arm 

carefully. He nodded, turning back to the console. 

"You bet." He eyed the PADD in her hand, and said, "something I can do for you?" 

"Um, we just received a message from the bridge. Captain Archer needs you for a senior staff meeting in the situation room. I told him you were on your way." 

He managed to keep the frown off his face. From his point of view, staff meetings were 

a damn waste of his time, and he would rather not attend. But this one was perfectly timed; 

instead of dealing with the fused injector coils, he would have to assign a team to it. He quickly briefed Hess on what he needed done while he was gone, then rushed off to the upper levels of the ship. 

When he arrived at the situation room, Malcolm, T'Pol, Travis and Phlox were all seated around the table. Trip nodded his greetings, then took a seat next to Malcolm. 

"Glad you could join us, Commander,"Captain Archer said, a reproachful glint in his eye. "I just wanted to brief you all on Lieutenant Reed's new plan." 

Trip tried to concentrate on the words spewing out of the Captain's mouth, but found it 

difficult. He kept picturing Laura smiling at him, her bright and cheerful eyes boring into him. 

When Hoshi joined the group gathered around the table, and took a seat across from him, he 

acknowledged her with a smile, then returned to his daydreams. He and Laura were on leave 

down on a planet remarkably similar to Earth, strolling along a white sanded beach. Although 

he had only known her for a day, he felt as though he knew everything there was to know 

about her. He even knew that she liked orange juice without pulp, and that romantic comedy's 

made her sick. 

"Commander Tucker!" 

Trip snapped back to reality, and looked around the room, startled. Six pairs of eyes 

were glued on him, all wearing a similar expression of confusion and worry. He shook his head slightly, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Captain. What were you saying?" 

Captain Archer resumed with a frustrated tone. "I was saying..." 

But Trip was no longer listening. In fact, from his perspective, he was no longer on the 

ship. He immediately recognized that he was standing in the kitchen of the house he had grown up in. He could feel the worn hardwood beneath his bare feet, a flowery scent of perfume filled his nostrils. He could even feel the temperature rise from the standard 70 degree starship to the 90 degrees of a Florida summer. He breathed in deeply, looking happily around the room. Everything was exactly how he had remembered it. The wooden kitchen table, where he had spent hours doing his homework, then longer still helping his sisters, each of the many dents that marred it's surface had a story behind it. The line of cabinets, the fridge, stove, the screen door leading to the backyard. With a smile he took in the sight of the huge oak tree in the backyard that he had climbed and fallen from too many times to count. He was even dressed differently, wearing a pair of plain blue pants and a white long sleeved t-shirt. 

"I don't understand why you have to be such a jerk about this!" 

He turned to the sudden, yet familiar voice. Surprise slowly set in his face as Elizabeth 

stormed into the kitchen. He recognized her as being eighteen, the year she had graduated 

high school. She wore a pair of form fitting ankle length khaki coloured pants, and a rather 

revealing black tank top. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She set the 

purse she was carrying down with a bang on the kitchen table. Oh, one more story to add to 

the novel of that table, he thought to himself. 

"I don't care if I'm being a jerk. You're damn well not going out like that!"he heard 

himself shout. His accent was thicker than usual, but fit in with Elizabeth's appearance. She 

shot him an incredulous look. 

"Charlie, it's only a trip into town. And you know Jake!" 

What the hell is this? He asked himself, even as his anger shot up several notches. She only called him Charlie when she wanted to hurt him. As if she wanted him to remember all that name had attached to it. He took a step towards her, pointing a finger decisively. 

"Yeah, you're right I know him! He's an ass! There's not a snowball's chance in hell I'm 

letting you go out with him, dressed like that!" 

He noticed her furrow her brow, a sign that she was as angry as he had ever seen her. 

When she spoke next, it was almost in a whisper, another betrayal at how she felt. "You're not my father. At least he had some idea of when to back off. I'm not a baby, Trip. I can't wait until you leave so I can grow up." 

She stalked past him, heading up to her bedroom where she slammed her door with 

vengeance. 

Where at one time, his nickname had been said with love and respect, now it was just 

an insult. Trip recognized the argument like a slap to his face. That had been the week after 

she had graduated, the last summer he had spent living in that house before joining Starfleet. 

Never in all his memories of her had she been madder at him. His refusal to let her go out with Jake Corten had cost him a week's worth of silence from her. He wondered if she ever 

understood how much her ignoring him hurt to his very core. In the past, he had also stormed out of the house, getting started on fixing the air conditioner unit. He frowned. If this was just a dream, then it wouldn't matter what he did. He would wake up, and his baby sister would still be dead. But if this wasn't a dream, and he was somehow locked in a temporal disturbance, then maybe he could change the way things went. 

He turned decisively, following the path Elizabeth had taken down the hallway, and up the stairs at the front of the house. At the top of the stairs, he had to take a minute to catch himself. His memories of that time were vivid and accurate, as detailed as the world in which he found himself was. On his right was the door to the room his other two sister's shared, Bethany and Emma. If his memory served him correctly, and he knew it did, they were at the movies with a group of friends. He paused in front of their door, reaching out and touching the fabricated wood painted white. With a heavy sigh, he continued on his way to Elizabeth's room. The door at the end of the hall belonged to their mother, and he didn't have to think back to know that was hard at work, working one of her three jobs. He reached the door to Lizzie's room. On the other side of it was his own room, but he decided he didn't want to revisit the time spent in there. Instead, he pressed his ear against Lizzie's door. By holding his breath and listening like his life depended on it, he could barely make out muffled sobs. He stepped back, momentarily taken aback. Never in the six years since the argument had he known that she had gone up to her room and cried. He had always assumed she had wrote about him in the journal she didn't know he knew about. Trip steeled himself against the hurt he knew he would feel, and knocked softly on the door. 

"Go away!"she cried from inside, throwing something at the door with a bang. Of course, Trip didn't listen. He turned the knob slowly, and opened the door. The sight was enough to make the breath stick in the back of his throat. How many nights had he spent in this room, coming the Tucker baby after a bad dream, or just sitting and reading with her until she fell asleep. Her room was the one with the biggest window, stretching along the entire length of the far wall, giving an unadulterated view of the beach only a few kilometres away. Trip suddenly remembered how many hours she had spent begging her mom to repaint her room. It still held the childish appeal for a little girl, rosy pink walls and teddy bear wallpaper. However, there just hadn't been the money. So Trip had taken on another job, worked his ass off, and after two months, had presented her with a gift certificate to the paint store in town. The memory of her ecstatic face came unbidden to him, and he smiled. 

"What do you want?"the muted question brought him back to the situation at hand. Lizzie was flopped on the twin sized bed, her face pressed into the pillow she hugged close. Trip swallowed hard, ignored his urge to opt a similar position, and stepped forward, taking a seat next to her on the bed. 

"Lizzie,"he said softly, and was surprised to hear his voice crack. She must have heard as well, she twisted around and looked at him with confusion written all over his face. He reached out, and put a hand on her shoulder. 

"You have to understand where I'm coming from." He spoke quietly, hardly trusting his voice for the few words he knew he had to get out. "You're my baby sister. If something happened to you, I don't know what I would do." He paused, taking a long moment to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat. Lizzie watched on, genuinely surprised at the emotion her big brother was showing. "I...I feel like I have to protect you all the time, because I know my world would end if I didn't have you anymore." Trip was unable to go on. He wiped fiercely at the wetness that was gathering around his eyes, praying that Lizzie got the jest of what he meant. He risked a glance in her direction, noticed the fresh tears running down her face, and grew angry with himself. The anger didn't last long, though. Lizzie launched her one hundred and twenty pound frame at her older brother, wrapping her arms around him tight enough to cut off his air. Trip said nothing, simply hugged her back. I'm not going back.   
  


Dr. Phlox spoke softly to the Andorian sand lizard as he dropped several small insects 

into the cage. He replaced the lid to the tank softly, then turned around to survey sickbay. Life 

certainly had been made simpler for him since Lieutenant Simmons had joined the crew. Her 

help with everyday medical matters had already been priceless. He felt much more confident 

with his ability to handle emergences with her on his staff. 

He looked up as the doors opened, and Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed rushed in, 

supporting a gray faced Commander Tucker between them. Phlox immediately rushed into 

action. 

"Put him on that bed!" 

He grabbed his medical scanner off the shelf as the Commander was hoisted onto the 

bed, and hurried over. 

"What happened?"he asked, running the scanner over Trip's limp body. 

Captain Archer managed to keep his steely composure as he explained. "I was briefing the senior staff. He daydreamed once, I brought him back. Then he just froze, and we couldn't get his attention. Then he collapsed, and vomited." 

Dr. Phlox noticed the nasty brownish stain down the front of Malcolm's uniform, and didn't feel it necessary to ask. Captain Archer watched intently as scans were run. Lieutenant Reed stood 

next to the Commander, his hand firmly in place on Trip's left arm, a sure sign as any of their 

growing friendship. 

"What's wrong with him?"the Captain asked, studying the doctor's face carefully. 

Phlox frowned. "Scans show he's perfectly healthy. Well, a little underweight, but there 

is no medical reason for his collapse. He appears to all scans to be simply asleep." Malcolm opened his mouth to protest, when a contented sigh escaped the Commander's lips. A wide happy smile crossed his face, and he rolled over on his side, curling around himself and hugging his middle tightly. 

"Do we really have to wake him up?"Lieutenant Reed asked, studying his friend's face carefully. "He looks so peaceful, so at rest." 

Dr. Phlox looked to the Captain for a decision. Archer frowned. "I know he hasn't been sleeping well, but I need to find out what happened to him. It's not like him to just fall asleep in a staff meeting." 

Phlox nodded in agreement, then produced a hypospray from the cabinet over the Commander's head. He pressed it against Trip's neck, the medication making its way through his skin with an almost inaudible hiss. For a long minute, there was no reaction. Then Tucker straightened slowly, stretching his lean body from his fingertips to his toes. His blue eyes opened, and he blinked several times, looking around the room carefully. 

"No,"he whispered, shaking his head. He looked up at Malcolm, then turned and glanced at the Captain and Dr. Phlox. "No,"he said again, sounding as miserable and broken as he ever had. He sat up, and scrubbed furiously as his face with his hands. He looked up at Dr. Phlox, and all were surprised to see tears brightening his eyes. 

"Why did you do it?"he demanded, his tone uncharacteristically venomous. "I was there, I was with her, she was okay!" 

Then with a quickness that shocked everyone, he threw himself at the Denobulian doctor, hands outstretched in a menacing gesture. Only the quick thinking of Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed saved Phlox from untold harm. Each man wrapped an arm around Trip's middle, and held him against the bed with their weight, while he bucked and fought against them. 

"I want to go back!"he screamed, writhing against his friends. "Let me go back!" 

"Trip, go where?"Jonathan had to shout over the engineer's colourful curses. "What are you talking about?" 

Commander Tucker didn't respond. Instead, he suddenly stopped moving, and his face crumpled with unimaginable pain. "Lizzie,"he mumbled. A sob burst from his lips, accompanying the tears streaming down his cheeks. He pressed his hands against his face, his body trembling, as he cried. 

Dr. Phlox was hesitant to approach the Commander again, afraid of producing a similar reaction. Jonathan grabbed the younger man's shoulders, and shook him. "Trip, what's the matter? We don't know what you're talking about?" 

Trip looked up at his friend, as if seeing him for the first time since waking up. "Captain,"he said quietly. His tears had stopped coming, but the wetness was still there. "I was there. In Florida. With Lizzie. She wanted to go out with Jake, but I wouldn't let her. Jeez, she was so mad at me." 

"It must've have been a dream,"Malcolm spoke up, placing a hand on Trip's shoulder. "You collapsed at the briefing table. You didn't go anywhere." 

"No!"Trip shouted, knocking the tactical officer back a step. "It wasn't! I was there!" 

The Captain met Malcolm's eyes above the Commander's head. "Report to Sub-Commander T'Pol. Ask her to conduct an extensive search of the surrounding area for anything that could've done this." 

Trip looked up at his friend, his eyes wide and distraught. "You have to understand, Jonathan. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't have been. It was too real." 

Captain Archer squeezed his shoulder. "It's alright, Trip. We'll fix this." 

He met the worried glance of Phlox from across the room, and sighed inaudibly. If it wasn't one thing... 


End file.
